


The Next Step

by southernfrost



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Canon Universe, F/M, In Character, Post-Canon, Single POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southernfrost/pseuds/southernfrost
Summary: Nick is keeping the Commander busy while June and Holly escape, but what is his fate after they're gone? (Canon-ish, taking place during and after the final events of season 2 episode 13. Very short)





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

> This is my imagination's quick take on what could happen to Nick post-season 2. I have a hard time reading fluffy, beach-family fics about this show, as it is so gritty, serious, and depressing. I'm positive that June has talked more in some tiny fluff I read than she has during the entire show. In any case, I got inspired to write a canon-extension fic but I also wanted to write something Nick/June. This is the best I could come up with, that sort-of satisfied my craving for a realistic fic and also my desire for Nick/June content that is true to the characters.
> 
> I have an unfinished section that I intended to include, but this whole thing is so short, I figured why bother. If anyone reads this and/or likes it, maybe I'll be inspired to finish it and write more... (give me that sweet sweet validation) 
> 
> Also, I'm really bad with titles (the title for this in Google Docs is literally just "o"). Enjoy.

Nick pulled the shutters open and took inventory of the situation outside. A Wife and a Martha stood in the street and watched as the firefighters sifted through smoky rubble. Most of the extra Guardians had left and there was only one fire engine remaining on the street. The red and blue flashes of light filled June’s old room with color. _I wonder what colors of paint she would pick for our beach house?_ Nick thought to himself, staring blankly at the corner of the window to avoid breaking his poker face as his mind wandered.

A pathetic sniffle coming from the bed brought Nick out of his daydream. He turned back to Fred and raised his arm back up, pointing the gun at the Commander’s chest. Nick bit the inside of his bottom lip, to prevent himself from pulling the trigger. “Shh. Don’t want the terrorists to hear you, sir.”

“N-Nick, please. Please. I’ll forget all about thh-is,” Fred pleaded, dropping the sheets he’d been anxiously fidgeting with so that he could clasp his hands to beg. Nick rolled his eyes and sat down on the window sill, steadying his aim.

The Commander let out a low whine, something between a growl and a sob. “I should have known you were a coward.” Nick didn’t flinch, locking eyes with the Commander. The two men glared at each other for a few moments as Nick chose his next words carefully.

“Stand up on the bed.”

Fred wavered, his eyes watering again with fear. Nick stood up and walked closer, gesturing with the gun. Fred’s jaw trembled as he followed the order.

Without hesitation, Nick pulled the bundled up sheet from the bed and handed it to Fred. He stared into the Commander’s shaky pupils and flicked his own towards the ceiling light above. “Tie yourself up.”

Commander Fred Waterford, faced with the choice of being killed by a Guardian or taking his own life, much like the choice he had forced upon thousands of Handmaids in all of Gilead, whimpered and begged. “Y-you can’t do this! What are you even doing this for? F-for **her**?” Fred’s face contorted in confusion, and then rage.

Nick turned his head sideways and groaned. The Commander was practically seething and was clearly not going to follow a simple command while this worked up. Nick made a circular gesture with his gun as he said, “Just spit it out.”

“That slut… Offred is **nothing** , she is an adulterous whore who **has** nothing! You could do great things here, if you weren’t so **fucking** weak.” Fred had started with a whisper, but his voice got louder with every word. “What did she do? Did she let you get your dick wet and then tell you that you could run away with her and have a family? She’s a fucking liar. All women are whores and liars. How could you do this to me, my family? We’ve done **everything** for you. You had nothing before Gilead -before me- and look at you know! You have power. I could give you so much more.”

Nick hadn’t moved an inch during the Commander’s rant, and was doing his best to not react. Fred gave that cruel smile, the smile he wore whenever he told Nick to beat someone for information. The smile he probably gave June when she said something smart in his office, the smile that just seethed ‘ _You’re strong, but I’m better_.’

“Tie your neck to the light, sir.”

Fred’s smile dissipated and his jaw dropped. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an out.  Nick was getting tired of playing this game. His anger flared up, flipping the safety off on his pistol and shoving the barrel into Fred’s groin. He wanted to shout and pull the trigger, but he caught himself. Nick cleared his throat and spoke softly, “What did I fucking say?”

The Commander squeaked like a rat, hurredly tying the sheet to the ceiling sconce and then to his neck. Nick stepped back and watched, trying to not enjoy the look of pure fear on Waterford’s face. He was very aware of the awful things these two people had done to June, to all of the women in Gilead, to the country he was born in, but he couldn’t help but feel pangs of guilt over betraying the only family he’d had in years… _June could be my family, if she’d have me. We could_ _–_

“Uh, mm, I’m done,” Fred stammered out. Nick sighed, his impossible reverie gone. He gently patted Fred’s arm.

“Sir, do you remember Proverbs 28:13?”

The Commander pulled his lips in, his eyes jumping between Nick and the mattress under his feet. “Not by memory, no.”

“Fucking Christ.” Nick groaned to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed and looked back at Fred, staring him down while slowly walking around the bed. He made sure to check the makeshift noose in his peripheral vision. “He who covers his sins will not prosper. Confess them and give them up; then God will show mercy.”

The Commander gasped, then let out a sob. “Yes, yes, praise be! Thank you, my dear Nick. You have saved me, and so too will I save you. Blessed are the merciful, for they too will receive mercy.” Fred’s hands were clasped in prayer, his eyes closed as tears streamed down his face. He was still sobbing, attempting to control his breaths so that he could begin confessing.

Nick pulled his arms back and kicked the bed frame sideways with all his weight, the Commander’s legs flailing as he hung from his neck. The light fixture jerked but held strong. Fred’s hands pulled at the sheets strangling him in a vain attempt to pull himself up. His eyes and face were quickly turning blood red, the gurgling sounds of imminent death filling the room.

Nick grabbed Fred’s chin to pull his attention, in these last fleeting moments of his pathetic life. “Her name is June. The baby she and I made, her name is Holly. You can call me weak, I don’t care, but those two are **not** and...” Nick could feel hot tears stinging his eyes and did his best to not let his emotions ruin this moment, taking a second to regain his control. There was more he had planned to say, but the words didn’t matter. He looked back up at Fred to find that pitiful man continuing to beg for his life, his eyes fluttering about and beginning to bleed. Nick stepped up onto the disheveled bed, leaned in close to Commander Waterford’s face, and spat on him.

“Fuck you.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Nick had become accustomed to waking up to the sunlight filtering in through the slatted windows of his apartment above the Waterford’s garage. He had called that place his home for about six years, but after June couldn’t spend the nights with him anymore, it felt empty. When Eden was there, Nick felt alone. After Eden... the apartment didn’t even feel _real_ , much less like home. In the end, he was ready to move out. He was just going to have to find some old alarm clock so he didn’t wake up late again.

Nick had only been in that hotel for two days, having spent the other four since June’s escape helping clear out the Waterford home and prepare it for sale. After all of Gilead learned of Fred’s “suicide” and “Fred’s” baby disappearing with a Handmaid, the Waterford household was done for. Serena Joy was declared the guilty party for the events of that night and quickly sent to the Colonies. Rita was reassigned to a new Commander within 24 hours, as she was one of the best Martha’s. Nick didn’t get a chance to talk to her or even thank her before she was gone. He was eventually sent to patrol in Washington DC. The country was on high alert after the Rachel and Leah Center bombing and the loss of one of it’s most powerful Commanders.

Taking a shower, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, he was entirely on autopilot. As his thoughts wandered, Nick did one final check of his uniform in the bathroom mirror. Everything was still so fresh in his mind, and he had a hard time holding back the ever-present thoughts of June and Holly.

_They should be crossing into Canada soon._ He plucked a stray eyelash from his cheek and leaned in to closer inspect his face. _She has my eyes, right? Shit, I can’t remember, I only saw her up close the one time. What kind of fucking deadbeat dad doesn’t know his own baby’s eye color? Runs in the family, I guess. If only I could see her_ _–_  

Nick squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to steel himself against the optimistic daydreams. He had told himself that getting them out safe was all that mattered. He made a fist and ground it into the granite countertop, knowing that this was the best outcome of what he’d planned... but it wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Maybe June was right, all those months ago in the Boston Globe offices. Maybe Nick just wanted to play the hero. Well, he got what he wanted. _June is safe, Holly is safe. Then why do I keep wishing that they would wake up next to me in this hellhole?_

Pounding on the hotel room door brought his eyes open. Nick watched himself fight back tears as part of him begged the Guardian outside to knock down the door and shoot him dead.

More pounding on the door. “Blessed morning, Guardian Blaine. Let’s go.”

Frustrated with his own reflection, Nick turned off the bathroom light and swung his rifle over his shoulder.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He remembered thinking that his life as a Commander’s driver was boring, before June arrived. It was always just maintenance on that damn BMW, or moving boxes around, or the occasional request from Mrs. Waterford to do heavy yard work. With his new patrolling duties, Nick had never had so much free time in his entire life. Patrol the streets for a few hours, walk through the government offices and chambers, then patrol the streets for another few hours, done. It gave him a lot of time to think.

Nick made eye contact with another Guardian as they crossed paths. It was the same Guardian he came across everyday on the Mall, at this spot. He shifted his gaze around the landscape as he ascended the stairs outside the Capitol building. A gaggle of Wives surrounding a stroller, an Econowife walking a dog, and far in the distance was a neat, paired line of Handmaids walking home from their shopping. Even from half a mile away, the blood red figures with starched white wings were instantly recognizable. _If June got caught..._

He ran his free hand through his hair as he began taking two steps at a time. Even when Nick was unemployed, before he ever got mixed up with the Sons of Jacob, he had more going on to keep his hands busy and his mind empty. Now it was the exact opposite, and he sorely wished he could be distracted from the constant worrying. Despite Nick’s vast network of sources, both within the Eyes and various resistance groups, he hadn’t heard a word about a Handmaid and a baby crossing into Canada.

_Stop worrying so much, maybe June ended up somewhere like the Boston Globe. Somewhere safe._

Thinking about the Boston Globe offices always cheered Nick up a little bit.

… But then again, that whole escape attempt didn’t go so well. Nick sighed to himself before he walked over the threshold and showed his identification to the Guardian stationed at the front desk.

_Don’t be so fucking stupid, someone would be helping her if she was in that type of situation again. I would have heard about that someone by now, if they’re not already hanging on the Wall._

The pessimistic voice won the argument, like it had everyday for the past two weeks of patrols. Nick blocked out the rest of his thoughts as he studied the bland, uninspiring artwork of Gilead’s New Capitol building. It was all eagles and angels, babies and streams of light representing God. _Where are the overflowing gardens being fertilized by corpses?_ He played with the morbid propaganda image in his head as he continued his route.

Nick heard whispers, slowing down as he approached an open door with pale light spilling out. He checked his surroundings and slowly snuck as close as he would dare. With his back pressed against the wall, he pretended to be guarding the entrance to an empty room as he eavesdropped the nearby conversation.

An older man, likely a Commander, was the first voice he could make out. “... you please, stop being so fucking pathetic. Just tell us what happened.”

“S-sir, I’m s-s-sorry sir, I’m just–” That voice was much younger, an Econoperson? Maybe even a newer Guardian? Nick couldn’t be sure, but from the rumors he heard, being a Guardian was easier than ever. _What with how expendable we are. Protect the children, what bullshit. Little boys become soldiers, little girls get raped or married off or worse… Or all three..._

Nick had allowed his mind to wander, losing bits of the conversation. A year ago, he would have never been this sloppy. He quietly kicked himself as he trained his ear back in on the words drifting out of that room.

A different man was speaking, likely the same age. Another Commander. “... utterly ridiculous, how did you allow the Handmaid to cross?”

Nick’s breathing becoming erratic almost instantly and his heart lurched forward. It felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. There was an awkward silence in the room, which gave him a chance to calm down and listen closely, despite his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t help but hope it was June.

An older woman cleared her throat in preparation to speak. Definitely an Aunt. “It is a shame Ofjoseph can no longer be brought to justice for her vicious attack on Aunt Lydia in Boston. And... from your report, she also got away with some sort of contraband? Seems she escaped with a package?”

The smile faded when he heard the unfamiliar name, but Nick felt a bit of relief for a different Handmaid’s escape. He slumped against the wall and let his head fall back. _I’m such a damned idiot, why would I expect news of any random Handmaid escaping to be_ **_her_ ** _?_ He sighed, pulling his posture back and focusing on the conversation.

“– across the field, th-that’s the border, with uh, a b-bundle. We didn’t... Uh, and there were C-Canadian troops www… waiting for her…”

“Go on, Guardian Dirksen. Everything.” The Commander seemed to be annoyed with how terrified the young Guardian was.

“She… They gave her a b-bull horn, and–” Dirksen let out a quick sob. “She said, ‘Mmm-My name is Emily. And this b-baby is Nichole, and…’ uh. I, sir, I have the f-full transc-script somewh-where...”

The Guardian kept giving details about the confrontation with Canadian troops and after a few minutes the room became a cacophony of voices. Nick couldn’t focus on this anymore, much less try to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. He walked back the way he came, right out the front doors, not bothering with the rest of his patrol.

If Nick had better control over his emotions, he might have finished his brief shift and pretended to have some sort of pity for that poor Guardian, since Dirksen and likely his entire squad were going to end up on the Wall. He couldn’t spare a single thought, though. With how few births there were in Gilead, and remembering that one of June’s closest Handmaid friends was named Emily, Nick knew what she had done. And he was entirely overwhelmed.

_Holly is okay, she’s in Canada with… Emily? Better than Gilead, but… why? Did I ever meet Emily? I probably did, in passing. Fucking praised be._

Nick couldn’t stop himself from chuckling under his breath as he walked back to the hotel, wiping away hot tears as he tried to calm down. He checked his surroundings quickly before muttering to himself, “I can’t **fucking** believe you. **Goddamnit** , June. Where did you go now?”

Saying her name always made his heart melt. Nick smiled, rubbing his eyes as his thoughts ran wild. _June wanted Gilead to know she stole our baby back from the Waterfords. Getting an unrecorded baby named Holly into Canada isn’t newsworthy, but stealing Nichole Waterford is a huge fuck you. She’s so fucking stubborn, she always has to win._

June was out there somewhere, off the grid, trying to save Hannah. A shiver went down his spine as that pessimistic voice came back. _Unless she’s rotting in a field somewhere, dead._

He clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm. _No. She’s alive._

Nick couldn’t waste his time patrolling anymore, he had to find her. The thought of being with June, after convincing himself he was never going to see her again, nearly made him collapse onto the pavement. The last time he smiled so widely and freely was when he held Holly, with June leaning into his shoulder telling him she loved him. Before that was probably at the Boston Globe, or the many mornings they spent cuddling in his apartment when Nick was realizing how deeply he’d fallen, and before that... he couldn’t even remember.


End file.
